Vengeance
by CrystallicSky
Summary: Hotstreak has his revenge upon Richie Foley... HOTGEAR, ONESHOT


**Vengeance**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Static Shock or any of its characters, nor do I make any money by writing this.**

**Warnings: Sexual situations, cursing, blahblahblahity-blah. -_-**

"This is really cool of you," a certain blond super-genius grinned at his companion, not giving much of a fuck that his elbows were on the table in an unmannerly manner. "You know, that you'd go out with me on an actual _date_-date."

"Yeah, don't let it go to your head," Hotstreak, well-known Bang Baby and rabble-rouser snorted at him from across the food court table, looking perfectly casual despite the fact that he was in public where people who knew him well from his various crimes could see him.

Several months ago, the cure to the Big Bang gas had been released throughout the city of Dakota, reducing all the metahumans given superhuman abilities by the stuff to normal people.

Richie Foley and Virgil Hawkins, AKA Gear and Static respectively, had chosen not to take this lying down and created a personal supply of the gas so that they could continue to fight crime as superheroes.

Having been banging Francis Stone at the time (and still actively doing so), it hadn't taken all that long for Richie to be convinced into returning the man's powers to him with it on the sole condition that he lay low and not go setting fires for no real reason.

Hotstreak had agreed easily enough, far too connected to his flame to even _consider_ having to give it up for good.

Things had gotten even better, as the legal system was met with an unfortunate surprise in the form of ex-Bang Babies being brought to court and formally charged with their crimes all pleading insanity; claiming they hadn't been thinking straight while under the influence of the gas by no fault of their own (they hadn't _chosen_ to whiff the stuff, after all).

It was a lie and everyone knew it, as the gas in no way interfered with thought-processes like other drugs and it seemed an excuse made up on the spot, but there was no way to prove that evidentially to a judge and jury, and as _every single Bang Baby_ brought to court used it as their alibi, the legal system eventually surrendered.

Any crimes committed by an individual while under the influence of the mutagenic gas were declared past the statue of limitations, and therefore no legal basis to charge said individual with any such offenses.

What that meant was that all the Bang Babies who had ever done anything wrong while they'd had their powers were now scot-free and while everyone knew the crimes they'd committed, nothing could be done to them about it.

What this meant more specifically for Hotstreak, combined with the deal he'd made with Richie, was that the pyrokinetic man could walk around in public, still very much pyrokinetic and thereby dangerous, but because nobody knew, no one could do _jack-shit_ about it.

This, of course, finally allowed the blond, super-genius that he was, to smartly negate his lover's previous arguments that they could not openly date because he was a wanted man.

"So..." Richie idly hummed, poking his straw into his Blue Raspberry Slurpee and taking a small sip, "what d'you wanna do? This mall's, like, crazy-huge, so we can do pretty much anything. There's a mini-golf place, a rock-climbing wall...I think they just tacked on a movie theater if you wanna do that."

Francis, for his part, took a sip of his Cherry Slurpee, assuring, "I don't care, Rich; whatever you wanna do is fine with me."

"Aw, don't be boring!" the blond demanded, "Pick something!"

"Ugh, fine," the redhead conceded, "we'll go see a movie. Happy?"

"What do you wanna see?"

"Oh, fer God's sakes, Foley, its always something, isn't it?" Francis grumbled.

"Fine, fine, I'll pick," Richie surrendered. "How about Watchmen?"

"Sure," the pyro shrugged, going to take another sip of his Slurpee, "whatev-_mmnf_!"

Blue eyes widened as the redhead winced and the teen demanded, "Are you okay, baby?!"

"Yeah," the man muttered, "m'fine. It was just brainfreeze."

Richie chuckled at that. "Good one," he grinned, "I almost believed you there."

"I'm not kidding," Francis frowned. "Why the hell _would_ I kid about that? I wouldn't get anything out of it."

"..." The blond was stunned into silence for three full seconds. "Oh my God, really?!" Richie burst into laughter nothing short of obnoxious, cackling as if he were utterly insane as he realized that his boyfriend was completely and utterly serious.

"What are you howling about?" the pyro demanded, glaring at him.

"Don't you see the _irony_?!" the teen chortled. "_You_ with brain_freeze_: EPIC FAIL, babe, EPIC FAIL!"

Francis was surprisingly accepting of being mocked, doing nothing more than giving his boyfriend a dark look.

He would have his vengeance...

--

Later that night, after a very eventful day at the mall, Richie Foley lie in his bed, drenched in sweat and panting raggedly for breath. "Four hours..." he muttered to himself, stunned.

Francis was already biting at his neck hungrily once more. "C'mon, baby," he coaxed, "one more time..."

"What are you, a nympho?!" the blond held himself back from shrieking so as not to call the attention of his parents down the hall (thank God he wasn't a screamer, else they'd have figured all this out by now). "We've already done it, like, twelve times! Do you have any idea how sore my ass is gonna be in the morning?!"

"Something of an idea," the redhead admitted, finally backing off and rolling over to face opposite of his lover. "Its what you get for being a bitch about the brainfreeze, babe."

Richie's jaw dropped. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, waitaminute: all of that...was _payback_?" he incredulously asked.

"More or less," Francis shrugged, pulling the blankets over himself. "I _do_ love tapping your ass, though."

The blond flopped back to the bed in shock, his rear end already beginning to throb with the telltale ache of overuse: he wouldn't be walking straight for _at least_ a week! Unable to think of anything to say to his lover, he settled with, "You devious bastard..."

"Ain't I just?" Hotstreak teased, rolling back over to haul the youth in close. "I'd get some sleep if I were you: you've got school tomorrow," he reminded with a smirk, "and I'm pretty sure you're running the mile..."

Note to self, Richie pondered in his super-genius brain, _do not_ piss off Francis again. _Ever_.

**A/N: Because vengeance is sweet when its in the form of smexing, and there really _are_ so few HotGear fanfics out there... D:**

**Hope you like this spur of the moment thing! :D**


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